


The Thin Line Between Lonely and Alone

by Marks



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's strange being back at home after the war's end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thin Line Between Lonely and Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devilc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/gifts).



> Just a little treat for you, Devilc! There's some anachronistic language in this, but it's not like the show isn't totally guilty of that, too, so I figured it was forgivable.

After the war, the revelry seemed endless. There was an impossible dream sheen to the little United States beating Britain, giant global force that it was, and since news traveled so slowly, as soon as a new wave rippled south or north and then back toward New York, another round began as soon as the last ended. Caleb Brewster was in his ale-filled element.

But the waves eventually ebbed and people started putting their lives together. The redcoats pulled out of New York Harbor, leaving them to clean up the prison ship mess left behind. They retreated from Setauket and Caleb went back to his family's land. It wasn't anything like he remembered; the British and Loyalists carved up pieces of whatever rebel families owned for themselves and they didn't give a shit about it. It wasn't the farm where they'd grown up, where generations of their families had lived. It was just something for them to use and profit from. But it was his, and he was determined to piece everything back together.

That wasn't to say it was all bad. Abe was there, and Mary, and little Thomas. Mary was expecting again, and though Caleb caught a couple of wistful glances from Anna over that, she mostly seemed okay, too. It was nice to be able to embrace her out in the open, and remind her of the time when they were five years old and got married in her father's barn. That was before six-year-old Abe callously stole her from him, of course, the bastard. Selah hadn't come back from Connecticut, but with Anna at the helm, Strong Tavern was going strong again, pun intended.

And then there was Ben.

One would think that Caleb would be sick of his pretty face, after all the years they spent together fighting for General Washington, barely leaving the other's side, but one would be wrong. At the end of the war, Major Benjamin Tallmadge was a decorated veteran and part of Washington's inner circle. Caleb expected him to come back to Setauket, marry a pretty lady with many ample qualities, and sire a dozen beautiful Tallmadge children. He didn't begrudge him that right because Lord knows Ben had earned it. And since Caleb expected to be sick of Ben, only to be found wrong, it only stood to reason that Caleb also expected Ben to be sick of him. 

But, well, he wasn't.

+

The whaling boat was still the best way Caleb knew to make a living, whether through legitimate means or privateering. Being an independent country didn't mean a guy couldn't make a few under-the-table bucks. So, he was pretty tired when he finally stumbled back home, pulling off his boots by the door and thinking of nothing but falling into bed and into a deep and hopefully dreamless sleep. Caleb's dreams were strange, but not remarkably so -- at least, he didn't think so. Some were violent, some were longing, but for someone who'd just fought a long war with only occasional opportunity to press against a convenient warm body, they were probably understandable. Still, no dreams were better than reliving a battle or wishing for something he couldn't quite put his finger on -- both literally and figuratively.

The house was dark, of course, the morning's fire extinguished before Caleb left early that day. Even so, Caleb had good eyes and even better ears and he noticed the movement right away. Any tiredness he felt from the day was wiped clear away, and he pounced on the source scarcely realizing he was moving.

"Jesus, Caleb," the moving thing said, sounding as fond as a thing could with the wind knocked out of it. Or him, as the case turned out to be.

Caleb was nose-to-nose with Ben, who didn't even seem all that peeved to be flat on his back on the hard floor of the Brewster house, all of Caleb's weight atop him. Caleb rolled away as soon as recognition set in and started laughing, flinging an arm over his eyes. 

"What're you doing, Tall Boy? Starting a second career as a rascal and a thief?"

"Wouldn't that be two careers?" Ben asked.

Caleb sat up, wiping at his eyes. "Sure, I guess you could be an independent rascal, but I'm pretty sure you can't be a thief without the other part. Now what are you doing here, apart from trying to steal all my hidden riches and stumbling around in the dark?" He stood up to light a lantern, casting the room in a warm glow.

Ben pursed his lips, the way he always did when he was trying to gather his thoughts and finding them harder to herd together than spring lambs. "I was lonely," he said finally, climbing to his feet again.

Now, Ben didn't live all alone the way Caleb did. Caleb's only family still in Setauket had been his uncle with palsy, and the old man had been shot by that bloodthirsty ass, Simcoe, right in front of him. But being alone and being lonely weren't the same thing. Ben lost his mother long ago, and his brother died miserably on a prison ship. His dad was still alive, but probably didn't know how to talk to him anymore. That was something else Caleb had noticed; aside from Abe and Anna, no one really knew how to react to returning patriots, not even people who'd known him since he was a mere glint in his mother's eye. So Caleb got it.

"I was wondering," Ben paused and straightened his spine, suddenly Major Tallmadge. "I was wondering if I could stay here tonight. I've not been sleeping well." Caleb could see it, the dark circles underneath Ben's eyes, probably reflected on his own face.

"You do realize that I don't exactly have world-class accommodations, right?" Caleb, in fact, had little more than a hearth, a table, two chairs, and his bed. Just the one bed, for clarification's sake, though it had room enough for two.

"I do realize that, yes," Ben said. "Do you think I need world-class accommodations?"

Caleb laughed. "No, I suppose not."

+

Though they'd come to this mutual bed-sharing situation easily enough, it turned out to be very strange in practice. Well, for Caleb, at least. Ben's eyes shut the second he hit Caleb's pillow, and for a man who claimed insomnia, he was doing a mighty fine impression of a rock. Caleb didn't understand his own reaction; he'd certainly spent enough winter's nights in drafty tents, men on either side of him. Often, one of those men was Benny boy. But a night at Valley Forge in December was a different thing than a darkened room where Ben's breath was the only sound besides his own, no other soul around for miles.

Caleb did eventually drift off, though, and the sleep he had was satisfying and deep. He didn't dream of outrunning bloody Rangers or trying to stop Ben from marching past hypothermia and on into the great beyond. When he finally woke, sunlight was creeping in around the shutters and his legs were tangled with Ben's, and they were fitted together, Ben's back pressed against Caleb's front. Caleb had one arm casually flung over Ben's middle and Caleb's face was buried in Ben's hair. It was a position Caleb often found himself in with one-nighter tavern wenches, but never with his oldest friend.

While extracting himself from the tangle, Ben woke up. If he felt as awkward as Caleb, he didn't show it. He just pulled on his boots and coat and told Caleb he'd see him later. 

It had been a very strange night, and it seemed it would be a very strange day.

+

And, it seemed, it wouldn't be a one-time thing. That night Ben was waiting for him again, though at least this time he had the courtesy to light a fire before Caleb's return.

Ben returned again and again, until their thing turned from surprise to habit. Caleb slept very well, but every sunrise was accompanied with fresh confusion. 

+

"What is this?" Caleb finally asked after a few weeks. It took him that long to screw up his courage, and that was a new experience for him. He never had to screw up courage for anything; Caleb Brewster had courage and then he screwed up.

"What's what?" Ben asked, searching Caleb's table. He brought dinner and ale along with him that night, and they were polishing off the last of it. It was probably the extra booze that brought on Caleb's burst of bravery.

"Not the food," Caleb said. He leaned over until his face was close to Ben's. "I need to know something, Ben. Am I really just the cure for sleepless nights, or is there something else going on?"

Ben breathed out slowly, their faces so close together that the air made goosebumps raise up on the back of Caleb's neck. "Do you really want to know, Lieutenant Brewster?"

Caleb nodded and swallowed. 

"I harbor unlawful thoughts," Ben said. "Persistent ones. And while others might find those wicked and that fact ought to weigh heavily on my mind, I can't say that it has."

"And why not?," Caleb asked.

"Because they're about you," Ben said plainly. "And I can't imagine my life without you in it, so everyone and their opinions can go screw themselves."

Caleb laughed softly. "When did you get so brave?"

Ben reached up and pressed his hand against Caleb's beard. "Just now," he said and kissed Caleb. Ben's mouth was soft, but his kiss was insistent and overwhelming. Caleb liked kissing; he'd always liked kissing. Caleb liked a lot of things. But things suddenly made sense in a way they hadn't before. It seemed like _years_ of questions suddenly had answers, everything slotting perfectly into place and working as easily as one of Sackett's inventions.

+

That night, while they shared the bed again, there wasn't much in the way of sleep.


End file.
